


Beasts and Angels

by BetweenBlackandWhite



Category: Einstürzende Neubauten, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:50:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenBlackandWhite/pseuds/BetweenBlackandWhite
Summary: It was back in '86 when times were hard, two beautiful men and a deck of cards.Nick and Blixa in Berlin 1986.





	Beasts and Angels

He was cheating. Blixa knew right away, but the others were way too drunk to notice. Instead of saying something, he just grinned. Again, Nick dropped a card under the table. "How do you do that?", asked Nick's opposite and left the table. Nick looked up to Blixa and knew that he had seen how he dropped the cards. Blixa's grumpy face rarely changed, but in that moment, Nick at least saw the hint of a smile. Nick bent under the table and collected the cards. He was beyond drunk, he realized with his head hanging under the table. He threw the cards on the table. With a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he counted them. "That's 51," he said. Blixa shrugged. "There's one missing," said Nick. "Well, then there were only 51," Blixa noted, and again there was the same unemotional face that Nick hated so much. As the waitress approached their table, Blixa raised his finger, pointed to Nick and then onto her glasses. Nick dropped his head on the table. "One more?", he asked, his forehead resting on the dirty table. His cigarette fell to the ground but he didn't care and so he just watched how it slowly died. "You're the devil," said Nick and Blixa shrugged again. Nick glimpsed at the full glass of whiskey in front of him and raised his head. He ran his hands through his hair to make sure that the cigarette ash or other dirt he had collected from the table got out. Blixa scanned the room. He always did. He talked little but thought a lot about what was happening around him. Nick, on the other hand, talked a lot, but in reality, was a lyrical amoeba compared to Blixa. Nick looked at him over the edge of his glass. "What do you think about the new songs?", asked Nick unsettled. Blixa took a deep breath. "It’s shit," he said, continuing to scan the room. He was the only one who made Nick feel small. Otherwise he was the one who caught the eye, who was admired and worshipped. But the thousands of eyes that watched Nick, the expressions of devotion to his music, the screaming, the hands that were reaching for him, everything crumbled when he was with Blixa, for he admired him. He was his hero, his master, his idol. But he had never said it or never even dared to tell him. He would have just grinned anyway and not responded. "My music isn’t shit," Nick said, counting the cards again. Still only 51. "99 percent of all music is shit," a deep voice said. "You're in the band too, don't forget that," Nick said angrily, emptying the glass and lighting another cigarette. "A side project," Blixa said and he, too, emptied the glass. Just once. Only once did Nick want to hear him say it that what he did was good. Just a little word of recognition. But instead he sat there and stared into the room with cold eyes. "You know ..." Nick began, glancing nervously at the cards. But even before he could finish his sentence, Blixa went over to the toilets. "You're an asshole. A goddamn asshole," whispered Nick and only now noticed the missing card on Blixa’s chair. He bent over to take it and hit Blixa’s glass with his shoulder. It rolled to the side and smashed on the floor. "Fuck," Nick said, tucking the cards in his pocket. "We're not here to clean up after you," said a bright voice, kneeling and collecting the pieces. "Aren't you the one from the Bad Seeds?", she asked. Nick nodded and paid no attention to her otherwise. "Too arrogant to talk, huh?", she said and walked away.

Nick saw Blixa approaching the table again. None moved like him. It always seemed like he cared about nothing and no one, and that the whole world was too low for him anyway. A shiver ran over Nick's back as he sat down right next to him. "Oh," Blixa said, looking down at the remaining shards on the floor. Nick’s heart beat faster. He didn't know exactly why, but it had to have something to do with the man next to him. He hated him, and he loved him and suddenly there was the unsettling realization that he liked him more than just a friend. Nick nervously scratched his arms and started to get nervous. He needed a fix, or the evening was only going to get worse. "Are you coming over to the loft?", asked Nick, wanting to go home as quickly as possible. He wanted to go somewhere where he could kill his thoughts with the help of a needle. Blixa shook his head. Nick's knees tipped up and down. "That girl from last weekend is still staying with us," he said. He knew he would come along when she was there. "Oh," said Blixa and he smiled. Why did he smile when he talked about her? Nick lit a cigarette. Suddenly, an arm rested on his shoulders. He closed his eyes. This is hell. He needed to get out of there. "That girl, huh?", said Blixa and oulled Nick closer for a moment. "I guess I come over for another drink or whatever the night will serve," he added, took the cigarette out of Nick's mouth, placed it in his and stuck it back in the corner of Nick’s mouth. Blixa patted him on the back. "You'll get another one," Blixa said, wondering why Nick sat next to him like a wax figure.

Without paying, they left the bar and went out into Berlin's cold concrete jungle. Nick trembled. Just a few steps and he would finally be able to crawl back into his little world. "We could also jam a bit," Nick suggested, but Blixa did not react at all. Nick threw his cigarette in front of Blixa's feet. He wished he would step on it and burn. Just as he burns down, every time he ignores him. He wasn't used to being ignored. His ego was bigger than any other's. Nick didn’t know why he always ignored him, but he knew that he was allowing it. There was this feeling that just didn't go away. When they stepped into the loft the strange girl staying over stood in the hall like a prophet of doom. "Hey," she said, looking past Nick, straight to Blixa. "I'll leave you alone," Nick said, walking to his little crawling space that he called home. Between Paper and all the stuff, he had collected, he dropped down on the mattress. From the room in front of it, he heard laughter and Blixa talk. He talked a lot and they laughed. Why was he fucking laughing and chatting like a school girl? Nick squeezed a pillow on his head. "Pipe down!", he shouted and kicked a cardboard box out of his little room, hoping it would hit one of them on the head. They didn't hear him. The box fell to floor. Nick reached beside himself. Took the spoon in the hand and searched for the heroin under the mattress. After mixing it and cooking it out, he pulled up the syringe. The mix was too much, he knew that, but he didn't care. He still heard the joyful voices beneath him. He wrapped the rubber band around his upper arm, placed it between his teeth and pulled tightly at it. His veins became visible. The needle ran deep into the skin. He became calm and relaxed and didn't think about as much as before. Everything was wrapped in cotton wool. His thoughts stopped running. In his legs there was a feeling of lightness, euphoria or cheerfulness. The world finally became indifferent. The rubber band glided from his mouth. He sank to the side. Something was different than usual. He knew he had too much. A stabbing pain drove through his body. In the distance laughter. He got cold. His breath stopped. "Blixa," he shouted, but only a quiet whisper emerged. 

"Nick has become very quiet," Blixa said, looking up to his bed. "He must be asleep. He’s drunk and it’s late," the girl said and came closer again. Blixa pushed her away from him. He thought he heard someone calling his name in the distance. "I’ll go and check," he said and stood up. The girl lay down on the couch. "I’ll wait," she said, smiling at him and went to another room. Blixa saw that the ladder up to Nick’s crawling space was gone. He tried to look over the edge, but he couldn’t see anything, so he pushed a cupboard to the side to go up. "Nick? I’m coming up," he said. What he saw when he finally was able to grasp a view shocked him. Nick was unconscious, and the ladder lay beside him. He must have pulled it up with intent, so no one would be able to help him. Blixa knew that, because Nick sometimes was like a naïve stubborn child. "Nick?", he got down on his knees and shook him gently. No reaction. "Fuck," whispered Blixa, gently took the needle out of Nick’s arm and threw it down from the plateau. "Hey," Blixa said, lifting Nick’s lifeless arm. "Fuck," he said again and in that very moment, it became clear to him. He needed him. He couldn't be without him. Nick was his alter ego, his muse, his mind. His fingers took Nick's pulse. His heart was still beating. He breathed so flat that Blixa couldn't even see the chest lifting, but he breathed, he wouldn't need Naloxone. Blixa leaned against the wall and placed Nick’s weak body in his lap. He needed rest. He buried his hands Nick’s black hair and began gently stroking his head. His left hand lay on Nick’s neck, to make sure his heart did’t stop. The heartbeat seemed to get stronger again. Blixa didn't know if he should stay. What if Nick noticed he was lying in his lap. He wouldn't like it much and most importantly he shouldn't see his wet eyes. His hand drove through Nick’s hair, his thumb ran over his cheek. His skin was soft and cold. Blixa could never have dreamed of such a moment. He lay there, right in front of him, close to him and it was almost impossible to bear. There are things that are not supposed to be, Blixa knew. At one time, Nick's weak hand searched for Blixa's. An electric shock drove through Blixa's body. He pulled his hand away. In case Nick confused him with one of his dates, he did not want to see his face when he woke up and saw him. Nick's hand now rested on Blixa's thigh. Blixa threw his head against the wall behind him. It was as if the air was too thick to breathe. It was too much. He wanted to leave. "Stay," said a faint voice, opening the palm of his hand. Blixa put his hand in it. If only Blixa could explain what he feels. Despite his tendency to poetry, there was never a word that could have described what he feels. It was strange. Scary. Adamant. That's why he kept his distance and didn't try to give him a smile. After all, it was Nick who once said that there is no place for gays in the world of Rock and Roll. He liked women. Very much even. But still, his heart was beating as fast as speed of light. He couldn't understand it. Nick’s hand almost burned into the skin of his thigh. He loosened the grip and thoughtfully drove his fingers along the rings on Nick's hand. Blixa took a deep breath. That was him. In that moment, Nick was exactly who he was. Broken and alone. Not the beast on stage, not the player, not the listless junkie. Like a helpless puppy, he lay in his lap. Nick's hand searched for Blixa’s hand again and continued to drive his up Blixa’s thigh in the process. Blixa sat there, petrified, hoping that the head resting in his lap was so sedated that he noticed nothing. Again, he ran his hands into Nick's hair. He wanted to do things with him. Things he would never have dared to say. He wanted to press his head more firmly to his lap. He wanted his body on his. He wanted to kiss him, let his hand wander on, sink into the deep blue eyes. His hand reached deep into the black hair, but although he pulled on it firmly, Nick didn't notice anything. "What a disaster I am," he whispered to himself, trying to distract himself. He looked around. The small chamber was littered with images of unclothed women. It didn't help. It just made it worse. His hand rode along Nick's cheek again. He knew he was taking advantage of the moment, but it would never happen otherwise. Nick would never let anyone get so close to him, except it was a lovely blonde groupie. Blixa had heard them often enough when he came to the loft with the boys from the band after a gig. He had always thought he was aroused by hearing the women, but it was Nick's quiet groan. He now became aware of that. Fingers continued to drive along the cheek, gently touching his mouth. 

Nick moved his head. Blixa quickly pulled his hand away. Steps in the hallway. He had to get down quickly. No one should see him here. He quickly felt Nick's pulse and saw he was breathing normally again. He placed the ladder before him and went down. He looked into the face of the nameless girl. "Still here?", she asked. Without speaking a word, Blixa approached her, pressed her tightly to himself and kissed her. He needed it. Now. 

When Nick woke up, he felt terrible, like a deer in spotlight. Nick had no idea what was going on. He was disorientated, confused, weak and scared. He just wanted to get back under the protective blanked called heroin. Everything in him wanted to stand up, run away and keep going. But he had no strength, no courage. He was alone. No one had come to him to help him. No one was interested. As he could hear, they were busy with themselves anyway. Weak, he rolled to the side and propped himself up cautiously. It hit him like a punch in the heart as he saw that stupid girl kneeling in front of Blixa. His hands buried deep in her black hair. His mouth half opened, and eyes closed. Something inside him wanted to just disappear but still he couldn’t stop observing them. Their movements got faster. Blixa's breath louder. Then, at the very moment Blixa got what he needed so much, their eyed met. Just a split of a second, but it was enough. Nick hastily turned on his back. His heart was racing. He stared at the ceiling. They would pretend it never happened. That's what he hoped, because he didn't want to explain why he had watched them do it. Why did he have to open his eyes in that very moment? No one does that.  
Nick looked at the naked women around him. "Don't you have a solution?", Nick thought and tried to get his hair in order. They were kind of knotted, as if someone had played with them. Of course, they had no answer. They never had. He heard Blixa and the girl leave the room. Nick was finally in a moment of calm, of sweet noise, of clarity. He closed his eyes. The girl’s hair became his, his head in Blixa’s lap, his hands wandering up his thigh. He put his hands on his face. He had never given in to the feeling when he thought of Blixa, but in his dazed state between reality and dream, his right hand wandered to his belt. Something held him back: it was the thought of the person who gave him so much pleasure. He hesitated, put his hand on his forehead and opened the heavy belt buckle with the other. He needed other thoughts. He wanted Blixa’s face to finally disappear from his memories. While opening his pants, he tried to focus on one of the images on his wall. He was still in a kind of dreamy state and did not manage to forget what he had just seen. Blixa's face, full of lust and longing. He wanted to see that face right in front of him. He wanted to feel his excitement. He wanted it to be Blixa's hands moving up and down faster and faster. But it was his own hand and it will never be Blixa’s. The desire he felt became more intense and rolled towards him from miles away with full speed. First a slight hint, then more and more intense. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to see Blixa’s face in front of him. He saw his hands driving along Blixa's body. He grabbed his hair, bit his neck, wandered the wide field in his eyes. It was getting closer and closer, from miles away it raced towards him. Like a heavy load train, it rolled straight towards him. He barely moved anymore. The train finally hit him. His breathe slowed down. He had thought of him. Lust became shame. While he cleaned himself up with an old shirt, he looked to the side. The ladder he had taken up stood in front of his crawling place. Someone must have been with him. Sleep. He needed sleep. There was a gig the other day and he didn’t want to fuck up.

When Nick arrived at the location the other day, he was still wondering who placed the ladder where it was. By morning, he had found the syringe at the bottom of the floor. It was a mystery to him. He had probably wandered around and he didn't remember. That, after all, had happened quite a few times. He wished Blixa would have been with him. It would have been too much to ever be able to bear it. A wide, all-engaging warmth spread in his belly. This flame had to stop burning and, above all, should not spread any further. "Blixa is finally here," Mick said standing in the door. Nick put his hands in his neck. When Blixa entered he didn’t pay any attention. Instead, he took a guitar and started playing. Nick got angry. "Stop that," he said, lighting a cigarette. Blixa put the guitar to the side. Came towards Nick, took the cigarette out of his mouth and stared at him. For a moment, it was like the birth of a star. A loud bang, then silence. Nick swallowed and ripped the cigarette out of his hand again. "This is not music," Nick said. Blixa ejected a quiet "Mh" and picked up the guitar again. The others were already on stage, but the audience was waiting for Blixa and Nick. Nick had problems holding his microphone in his hand and weaved from one side to the other. The glaring spotlight dazzled him. The air was thick, and it stank. Nick took a pair of sun glasses and tried to focus on a song. He held on to the microphone. The band repeated the riff, but instead of starting to sing he lit a cigarette. Mick approached him and started singing the first line. Nick's sunglasses half-slid down his nose and he looked at Mick. "Ok. You sing," he laughed and sat down on the stage. The audience started complaining. "Come here," Mick hissed while trying to sing the song. Blixa glanced at Nick. He hated him as much as he loved him. Nick stood up and began to sing the next song. Blixa was visibly annoyed. Music is art and Nick just trampled on it like a fat elephant. 

Blixa threw the guitar into the crowd and walked off stage. He rushed past Nick. The first glasses and beer bottles were thrown onto the stage. "You are all just pussies," Nick mumbled and tried to fix at least one face in the audience. He lay in beer and cigarette butts. The remaining band members saved their instruments and tried to drag Nick off stage. "You too! I'm too! Everyone's a pussy!”, Nick screamed. The others dragged him just as far until the audience could no longer see him and left him lying on the ground. "Puuussies!", he shouted after them and dropped his arms. The room revolved around him. He saw a mug next to him, smelled what was inside and took a sip. White wine "What's all this about?", asked Blixa and looked down at him. Nick looked up and wished he had never met him, never let him into his world and certainly not ever called him his role model. "Pussy," Nick said, shoving the sunglasses back into place. "That's all?", Blixa ripped the mug out of Nick’s hand. The white wine poured over Nick's hair. It has not been washed for days anyway. Nick sat up and glanced at Blixa over the edge of his sunglasses. He streaked his hair back. "At least I don’t let a stranger suck my dick while my best friend is dying," Nick said, laughing. A fist landed in his face. The sunglasses flew into the corner. "Fuck what's wrong with you man?!", asked nick. Blixa saw blood running down Nick's lips. Nick wiped away the blood with his sleeve. He felt tears working their way up to his eyes. Don't cry. Everything, but not that. Blixa turned away and left. "Run away! Run away as you always do!", Nick shouted after him. Blixa felt so much anger that he clenched his fists. "Why didn’t you just die then? It was worthless to save your life," he said and left. So, he had been there. He had placed the ladder where it was and pulled the syringe from his arm. Nick turned to the side. His tears mixed with his blood.   
It was late at night, if not early morning, when Nick headed home. He had thrown up several times and felt like a miserable dog. His hair was sticky, his shirt was dirty, and the blood was not completely washed out of his face. Why had Blixa been with him and hadn't told him? He wanted to ask him. Nick stood outside Blixa's place. He was pretty sure he stank like 300 homeless men, but if Blixa was going to beat him up, it didn't matter anyway. He wavered and pressed the bell. "Open the door," he shouted up to the open window. No reaction. He rang again. "Hello?" He picked up an old can from the street and threw it to the window. Shortly after, the door made a buzzing sound. Nick entered and walked up the creaky stairs. The door to his flat was open. Blixa rarely slept and if he did it was mostly during the day. That night he sat on the couch playing guitar. Both said no word as Nick sat down. They both sat in the dark and stared into the room. There were so many words. Both masters of melodies and prose, but unable to open their mouths.   
Blixa knew Nick wasn't doing well. Never did he see Nick so low and what Nick had said confused him. Why did he care about with whom he was together with? Was he jealous and wanted him to stop paying attention to the girl? Blixa’s fingers stopped playing. "You raised the dose on purpose," Blixa said, staring into the middle distance. There was no answer. Nick broke apart in front of him, piece by piece and he couldn’t longer hold back. "I was with you," Blixa said and dared to look to the side. He saw the profile of the man he admired, staring outside the window. He was paler than usual, unhealthy and eyes red. "Why," Nick said, lighting up a cigarette. Blixa put his guitar to one side. "Fear," he said so quietly that Nick could barely hear it. "I don't remember a thing. What had happened?", Nick asked. Blixa put his hands over his face. „I calmed you down and made sure you breathed," Blixa said and it felt strange to him to talk about his feeling. The wall around him was crumbling. Silence encapsulated the smoke-filled room. Nick looked at Blixa from the corner of his eye. "How?", Nick asked, but Blixa had no idea how to say it. Both looked at each other. Blixa put his hand to Nick's head and pushed him down. Nick lay down, his head resting in Blixa's lap. The only light in the room came from a lantern in front of the window. Strange shades moved along the wall as cars passed. "What else did you do?", asked Nick cautiously and Blixa buried his hand in the tangling sticky hair. A shiver drove through Nick's body. He closed his eyes. "And then?", whispered Nick. Blixa hesitated, then took Nick's hand and placed it on his thigh. Nick got cold and hot at the same time. Blixa's hand burned on Nick's skin. His fingers drove along his cheek. He found it difficult to classify what it meant. The possibility that Blixa shared the same feelings for him was something beyond his otherwise great imagination. But there was a hand that gently stroked over his head and cheek, and Nick's hand, which seemed to burn itself on Blixa's leg and the silence. Nick sat up again and looked Blixa in the eye. On stage and in the studio, they got along without words, but now there was only a white noise. Although Nick felt dirty and unwashed, it didn't seem to bother Blixa. The vast seas in Nick's eyes seemed to drown him. Blixa lit a cigarette. Maybe he had given away too much, but he had to do it. Just as he wanted to take up the guitar again, two slender legs wrapped themselves around him. Nick sat on top of him. Right in front of him. Looked directly at him. The silence was hard to bear. It was unspoken, invisible, surreal, but it was everywhere. It filled the room. Nick's hair hung down and Blixa looked into the melancholy shy face of the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Blixa's hands reached tightly into Nick's hair. Nick groaned quietly. He wanted to eat him alive, with skin and hair. He bit Blixa in the neck. A frenzy of emotions, thousands of kilometers under the sea, far away from it all. Far from Berlin's stages, cameras and cold nights. Blixa was still trying to grasp what was happening. Everything was out of control. Hands that drove along Nick's body, disoriented. Blixa took Nick's hand and put it in his crotch. Nick glanced at Blixa and smiled mischievously. Then their lips touched. Nick reached into the tight pants and felt that Blixa was as aroused as he was. Blixa's hands drove along Nick's belt. It was right but somehow wrong. Nick took Blixa's hands and looked at him. Something prevented him from letting Blixa's hands wander on. "I want you," Blixa whispered in Nick's ear. Nick wanted the same, but something held him back from surrendering to him. Nick opened Blixa's pants. Blixa tried to open Nick's belt again, but he pushed his hands away again. "Your hands are cold," Blixa said, and Nick pulled his hand back again. "I didn't know you were so easy to unsettle," Blixa whispered, shoving Nick's hand back into his pants. Nick gently began to move his hand. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but Blixa's quicker breathing suggested to him that it was right. Nick reached for him more tightly, letting his hand slide to the top. Blixa put his hand around Nick's and kept squeezing it whenever it got to the end. Nick began to move quicker, but Blixa hinted that he should slow down. Blixa placed his head on Nick's shoulder and began to groan quietly. They were one. A unity full of lust and devotion. Blixa got hot and a tingling sensation arose in him, which slowly began to become unbearable. His body could no longer be controlled by himself. He was under Nick's control. Nick kept his eyes closed and tried to resist the temptation let Blixa do the same. Everything in him contracted in short rhythms, but he couldn't. Instead, he swam in Blixa's moans and smell. He realized Blixa was getting harder in his hands. Blixa buried his face in Nick’s hair and couldn't stop it. A wave crashed over him. A loud chorus that echoed in his ear. I a split of a second, all voices and sounds he had ever heard raced through his head. It was Nick. The thought was shameless and indescribable. Both lingered for a moment. Nick, too, put his head on Blixa's shoulder. He felt along his shirt. A warm thick liquid ran down to his belly button.

Blixa raised his head and suggested he wanted to get up. They didn’t speak a word. Nick dropped to the side on the sofa and grabbed a tissue. When Blixa had left the room, a strange feeling spread inside him. It started in his stomach, grew roots to his fingertips, and right up to his throat. It was right, and it was wrong. It could never work. He closed his eyes and a tear ran down his. There was no room for freaks like them. Not in the music industry and certainly not in punk. Nick wished he could just burn down his feelings, choke them, crush them, but they were stronger than before. The floor in the hallway creaked. Nick wiped away his tears. Blixa came in, lit a cigarette and stood by the window. He, too, could never have guessed that both felt so much for each other and knew that it should never have too much space or their careers would end. Nick sobbed quietly. Blixa had never seen Nick cry. "Are you crying?", he asked carefully and knelt on the floor in front of him. "This…," Nick said with a broken voice. "I know," Blixa said. Nick dropped his head on Blixa's shoulder. His tears ran down Blixa's breast. "You'll find a beautiful woman and you will have gorgeous children," Blixa whispered. Single tears became rivers. "Both of us," Blixa said and his voice cracked. "We're both going to have that and at some point, we're going to live in different cities and it's not going to hurt anymore," he added. Again, a car drove past. The cone of light wandered around the room, illuminating individual memories. The guitar, the books, the mountains of paper. Nick put his forehead on Blixa's. There would never be an alternate version of this life in which both were made for each other. No parallel universe could have offered both a common path and although they lay in each other’s arms, it was as if they were already dead. Buried under the weight of questions and unsatisfying answers. It had to be buried. "It will always be there," Nick whispered and his nose squeezed against Blixa's. "Then we should hide it as best we can," Blixa replied. "I'm not going to be able to do that. How can I sing a word about love and grief without looking to the left?", Blixa looked at Nick. He was right. There was an invisible bond that seemed to draw the two together. The greedy mop in front of the stage should never notice any of it. It would cost a lot of strength to hide it, but at least he would be able to do that. "We should perhaps distance ourselves from each other," Blixa suggested and it hit him himself when he said it. "How can stop your heart from beating?" asked Nick. He had an angry, disappointed look on his face. Like a defiant child. Blixa knew exactly what was to follow.

Nick pushed Blixa away from himself. "When I first saw you, on TV, I thought, fuck that one will burn me! And I am burning! Right here!", roared Nick through a tear curtain and hit his own chest. Blixa buried his face in his hands. "They'll notice," muttered Blixa and put his head on his knees. He wanted to make himself so small that he no longer existed. "Fuck!", shouted Nick and kicked against a stack of books. He walked nervously up and down. Hands clenched into fists. The slender shape as a shadow play in front of the window. Blixa knew Nick needed a shot. He became paler, more aggressive and more uncontrollable. "You're a monster!", shouted Nick. "You eat hearts and spit them out when they don’t taste right," Nick added. Blixa stood up. "Nick-" Blixa said, trying to grab him by the shoulder. Nick, though, kept running up and down like a cat. "Nick!!!", roared Blixa at such a volume that he feared all of Germany might have heard it. Nick didn't stop. Instead, he began nervously driving his hands into his hair and scratching his arms. "Nick!", shouted Blixa again and spun him around by the shoulder. He looked into blank eyes, it was as if the blue had turned almost white. "Everything I do and think and write is about you," Blixa said calmly. Nick wanted to scratch himself again, but Blixa grabbed his wrists. "Everyone's leaving me. All who love me leave me at some point. Just as you. Everyone I love leaves me," Nick said. Blixa closed his eyes. Nick had uttered a word that Blixa never wanted to hear. A word he never wanted to take care of. He let go of Nick and leaned on the windowsill. "Go get high," he said quietly. Nick felt abandoned. The stray cat had to get back out on the street.

As Nick closed the door behind him, Blixa felt a sense of remorse. He should have stopped him from leaving, prevented him from going out and getting his stuff. Blixa strongly opposed his consumption. Alcohol, cocaine, everything was fine, but heroin just killed people and it had already killed too many he knew. Even now, he longed for Nick's eyes, his voice, his touches. He almost couldn't believe it, but he was worried. He lit a cigarette, took his coat and walked out. Nick must be somewhere around. If in doubt, at home. Berlin slowly woke up. Businessmen ran by with their briefcases. He himself looked like a parrot, despite being dressed entirely in black. After countless moments of searching through back streets and alleyways, he noticed a lean figure, cowering in a house entrance. "It's warmer where I live," Blixa noted and Nick looked up. He was high, Blixa saw immediately. Nick’s gleeful grin had returned to his face. Blixa reached out. Nick pulled himself up and immediately dropped his head on Blixa's chest. "That was quick. How did you get that done in a few seconds?" Blixa asked, pushing Nick away from himself. "Everything goes fast when I do it," Nick replied, blinking. Blixa had to laugh. "Come, we go to me," Blixa said, putting his hands in the coat and making his way back, followed by Nick.

"Let's play something," Nick said. Blixa grabbed the guitar and started playing a riff. Nick ran around the room smoking. He tried to find a melody, words for chaos, yet he could not squeeze a single word out of his brain. Blixa stopped playing. "Let's sleep. Tonight’s a gig. The last one was so shitty, we have to get that right." Nick looked at him in disappointment. Of course, he knew how important the concert was after the last disaster, but he wanted to regain normality. They had always done that: Sleepless nights of songwriting. He wanted everything unspoken to just disappear and to forget how Blixa’s lips had felt. Blixa walked out of the room and stopped in the door frame. "I'll get you a blanket," he said, spinning around. "Can I take a shower?", asked Nick. Blixa came back with blankets, towels and washed clothes. Blixa seemed indifferent to what had happened a few hours before. Even though Nick didn't want to give in further to his feelings, this sense of rejection didn’t feel good. Blixa went to his bedroom while Nick stepped into the shower. The cold water ran down his body. Why didn't he allow Blixa to touch him? He wanted it, but there was a wall he didn’t want him to break in. Nick put on the clothes Blixa had given him. He laughed. The shirt said: Pussy. On his way into the living room, he glanced at Blixa, who was already asleep, curled up like a fox in his burrow. The beast was asleep. Peaceful, almost too peaceful. The fox gathered energy to hunt, energy to tear down world and burn down the stage. But all this was invisible now. While we’re asleep, we are all the same. Whether hunters or hunted. Nick put his jewellery on the dresser. His wet hair has already drenched the shirt and he started to freeze. He wanted to get into the warm burrow. Carefully, he walked down the. When he arrived in front of the bed, Nick paused for a moment. Pictures raced through his head. Longing, lust, desire. Like a menacing storm. It was a dream. A dream far too real. He sat down gently on the edge of the bed. He placed his hand gently on the fox’s fur. Blixa took a deep breath and turned his head around. "Do you need something?", asked Blixa half-asleep. Nick put his hand on Blixa's cheek. "Yes," said he. Blixa opened his eyes and looked at him. "What?" "I need you," Nick replied. This was exactly the moment. The moment Blixa knew they can make it. They were two out of millions and they were not on their own. Born to be free. Free in his little enclave, their little world, to which no one should ever have access to. "They can go and talk about it," Blixa said, pulling Nick closer to himself. "They will never know," said Nick. Blixa felt Nick's warm, soft lips on his and a gentle sense of happiness flowed through his body. The kiss became a passionate dance and his breathing got faster. Nick rolled unto Bixa. He looked him in the eye. "That's our world. It’s no one’s business, "Blixa said. It was a garden, sealed off from the outside world. No one but them should ever have access to it. Nick pressed his body to Blixa's. Blixa felt Nick's erection and was unsettled. Several hours earlier, he had made clear that he did not want to be touched. His hands carefully drove down Nick's back. He knew Nick like no other. Before all others an angry devil, alone an almost scared deer. That's why he could never be alone. When others looked at him, stared at him, Nick was someone else. Nick would deny it, but Blixa knew very well. Blixa pushed up Nick's shirt and to his surprise he took it off. He felt Nick's bare breast on his. He could feel his heartbeat on his chest. Blixa turned and now lay on Nick. He held Nick's arms above his head. Nick wanted to look annoyed, but instead he ejected the most heartfelt laugh that Blixa had ever heard of him. It was an almost a childish laugh. Happy and without concern.

Again, their lips met. Blixa could sense Nick had a laugh on his face. "What's going on?", asked Blixa. Nick gazed mischievously at him and shrugged. He was aware that angels were more likely to fall from the sky than for Nick to say he was happy. What hit Blixa was the mortality of the moment. He gazed thoughtfully at Nick "What's wrong with you?" "When we leave the house, this is not going to exist anymore," Blixa said. Nick's smile disappeared from his face. "Everything is just for a moment," Nick said, pushing Blixa back to himself. Blixa started kissing his neck. Nick's body trembled. Blixa put his hands back on Nick's wrists. Blixa's kisses wandered down the neck, to the chest. Hands slid down Nick's arms. Nick put his hands around Blixa's head. As Blixa headed toward his belly button, Nick stopped him. Blixa looked at him. "Nene," he said, under a mischievous laugh. He said it in German, but Nick understood. Blixa glided his tongue slowly across Nick's stomach, toward his loin. Nick was still trying to loosen Blixa's grip in order to be able to pull his head back up. But he was weaker. Too weak from the desire for what was to come. Blixa let him go. Nick's hands drove into Blixa's hair. He stood on the bridge between shame and lust and didn't know which side to go to. Nick sensed Blixa was not doing this for the first time. He was never sure, but somehow, he had always guessed it. The way Blixa communicated, moved, the way he inspected everything closely. Something had always given it away. Blixa's hands now took off his pants. Nick reached tightly into Blixa's hair. When Blixa closed his mouth around him it felt so good it almost hurt. He wanted more, but at the same time, he wanted it to stop. Nick began to move under the sensations he felt. Blixa put his hand on his loins and held him. Nick's breathing became irregular and he got lost in himself. He wrestled to enjoy the explosion that caused his whole body to quake. An indescribable wave of feelings rolled over him with barrel-heavy weight. With no control over himself, Nick ejected a loud of scream. His hands pulled on Blixa's hair. With groans and heavy breath, he pushed his loin closer to Blixa. His heart was racing. Sweat ran down Nick's forehead. While trying to get control over himself again, he watched Blixa take a sip of water and light himself a cigarette. Blixa lay down next to Nick and lit a cigarette for him too. Nick took a deep breath. "Fuck" Nick said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He chuckled. "Take money for it," Nick said, laughing. Blixa laughed too and put his head next to Nick’s.   
***  
"How much longer do we have?", asked Nick while the others tuned their instruments. They had twenty minutes left until their gig. Nick looked at Blixa over the edge of his beer cup. He wanted to be alone with him. Blixa played some riffs and dared not look over to Nick. He knew no one would notice, because he always avoided eye contact with others, if not any kind of interaction. But even he couldn't banish Nick from his mind. He wanted to go back to their garden, their little enclave where they could be close. He wanted to get lost in him again, but now everything was far away, as if nothing had ever happened. Nick leaned against the wall. The previous night was still in him, every touch and every word crept through his veins. Like a predator, he watched Blixa. Blixa continued to ignore him. "Hard night?", asked Mick and tipped Nick om the shoulder. There it suddenly was. For a second, just for a moment, Blixa looked up and a secret smile appeared in the corner of his mouth. They took their instruments and walked to the stage. In the narrow hall Nick touched Blixa’s arm. Blixa wore a black suit. He never did. "You look good," Nick whispered. Blixa swallowed down his smile and nodded. He wanted to be close to him but couldn't. “They can talk about it, they will never know,” Blixa whispered to himself.


End file.
